Sigrid Marianne Gayangos
I shouldn’t have deserted my class en route to their first open dive in Onse Islas. Granted, six coaches were more than enough to handle a group of eight able swimmers, but I should’ve known better than take my sorry ass back to Pueblo to catch a jeepney headed to the airport, when we had just made the two-hour drive and arrived at Barangay Panubigan. All because of a text message. Tin! Guess what? I’m going to Zamboanga! 11:30 ETA. See you for lunch, yes? I could’ve told her that I was occupied, that lunch wouldn’t do, but maybe I could try and make it in time for dinner. But no one said no to Alexandra Fajardo. Not even someone who hadn’t seen her in years and only got to talk to her on rare occasions when Alex was bored, so she messaged poor old Tin who probabl
